


Warmth

by vargrimar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vargrimar/pseuds/vargrimar
Summary: A collection of drabbles and shortfics featuring Jamison and Satya. Originally for sextober, but now for prompts I've received concerning it.





	1. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "afterglow", submitted by raedoodles on tumblr <3

Jamison loves the way she smells.

Curled up amongst the mussed covers, Satya lies nestled against his chest, her ample backside flush with his groin. Waterfalls of her hair curve among the pillow beneath his metal arm, and he takes the opportunity to bury against her in the aching afterglow and breathe. He doesn’t know what it is about her that smells so bloody good; she uses scented soaps and shampoos and lotions, but none of them seem to quite mirror the aroma that permeates her clothes and the places she sleeps and the currents of air that pass her by. While he prefers the acrid smells of his work and the earthen scents of the outdoors, he must admit that hers is something that keeps him more than occupied.

Satya nudges one of her legs under his, her foot hooked around the back of his calf. Her body heat is warm, close, intoxicating, and he swears if he weren’t so exhausted from the past few hours, he would scoop her up and revel in her again. Instead, he chooses to drop three kisses down the column of her neck before gliding his hand along her breasts and belly to tease right between her legs. She’s still wet, he finds, and he’s sure traces of him still linger despite her diligent cleanup. The thought makes him sink his teeth upon her shoulder and smile into her skin.

“Already?” Her voice is amused, half muffled into the plush of her pillow. “It hasn’t even been ten minutes. I assumed you would need more time.”

“Bit longer,” he says, and circles his index finger over her clit before dipping further in. Her muscles clench in a soft, sweet hold, and despite the fatigue weighing through his limbs, a spark stirs down in his lower belly. “Not a miracle worker or anything like that. Just like how you feel is all. S’nice. Real nice.”

Satya replies with a low hum. Her back arcs against him and her prosthetic hand rises up behind her to touch at his face. The warmth of the white metal by his jaw is different than supple skin, but no less pleasurable. The tips of her fingers sketch at his neckline and outline the shell of his ear before sifting through his hair. A tremble climbs through her as he indulges her with a generous thrust, followed shortly by an inhale sucked between her teeth that sounds an awful lot like pain.

He instantly stills his movements. “Oi, you all right?”

“It isn’t any fault of yours,” she says, repositioning her hip. “Well, no. Perhaps it is.”

“What? What’d I do?”

“I believe you know the answer to that already.” She gives his cheek a loving tap, the crystal of her palm by his chin.

“Wait. Hang on.” He withdraws his hand in puzzlement and leans from the pillow to peer down at her nuzzled among the sheets. “I do?”

Satya turns to smirk up at him, the fiery gold of her eyes sharing in silent mirth. “Are you not sore?”

“ _Oh_.” Jamison would laugh, but she tugs him down for a kiss instead.

He can never get over how incredible she feels. Overcome with the heat of her body and the soft fullness of her breasts and how her teeth drag at the edge of his bottom lip and the way she nudges her thigh in between his legs to coax his cock into hardness, he sighs against her and drinks her in with ferocity. With the musky scent of her coating his fingers, he grips at her shoulder and grinds his aching hips and clenches his metal hand into the sheets and wishes his body were more willing than this because it feels like molten fire crawls through his veins every time she touches him.

Exhales shuddering from his lungs, he feels her warmth draw away and plant a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose. Jamison opens his eyes, bleary and breathless in the aftermath, and it occurs to him that he has no idea when he’d closed them. In hopes of masking his surprise, he kisses the side of her mouth, her cheek, and then the birthmark just by her lips. The playful sound of her laugh chimes in his ears like the tolling bells after the perfect set of charges, and it hurts far worse because he is so fond of the slopes of her high cheekbones and the shape of her nose and her smile (god, her _smile_ ) is more addicting than watching his custom shells combust into bursts of smoke and color.

With care and purpose, he brings a finger to his mouth and sucks it clean. Her smell is divine, her taste somewhere far beyond, and he lingers at the final knuckle to ensure he gets all he can. The increasing pressure of her thigh against his growing erection suggests she enjoys his enthusiasm, and he grins at her with a final lick.

“Dunno what it is about you,” he says, and he curls his arm around her to trace his good fingers down the dip of her backbone. “Can’t get enough.”

“I could say the very same of you.” Satya frames his face with her metal hand, her other scratching gentle patterns against his collarbone, and she kisses his chin with a slow gentleness that makes prickles weave down his body.

Jamison breathes deeply, soaking in all that he can. He still doesn’t understand why her entire being smells so fantastic. Isn’t quite floral and it isn’t quite fruitlike; it’s sweet, somehow spiced at the edges, and with a savory undertone that sends his heart afire. The remnants that slick his fingers are different, of course, but he will further indulge when she isn’t so sore and when he doesn’t feel so spongy.

He will admit that his nose is not the sharpest of his senses. Regardless, he relies on it a great deal when mixing compounds. Years of experience has taught him the importance of smells, and Jamison Fawkes knows a good one when he comes across it.

And as far as he’s concerned, Satya is the very best there is.


	2. More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "First time Junkrat makes Symmetra orgasm", submitted by an anon on tumblr.
> 
> Unedited (mostly) as it's late, so I will attend to it tomorrow evening.

Satya did not imagine her first sexual encounter with Jamison to be in the workshop at half past midnight.

She sits upon his lap in one of the rolling chairs by their project tables, her backside pressed against his straining erection. His left hand traces a gentle line down her blouse toward the top button of her pale slacks before drawing two fingers together and circling halfway down over the length of the zipper. His breath is hot by her ear as his teeth nip just by her crystal earring, and her fingers dig into the patchwork at his right thigh. She would be lying if she said she weren’t nervous, but the coiling ache in her lower belly does a stupendous job at offsetting her anxieties.

“You’re real warm,” he says against the shell of her ear.

“So are you,” she replies, working down a swallow as he adjusts his hips behind her.

His mouth grins a series of teasing kisses down the column of her neck, his fingers still swirling a soft rhythm against the front of her slacks. His tongue lathers at her skin between each, the sheer heat trickling shivers through her nerves, and for a split moment, she wonders if he intends to replace his hand and do the same.

The thought is so very tempting.

Satya tries to rein in her breathing and to keep control of herself, but it does little to help. She knows her panties are already soaked—they’ve been for the past hour, if she’s being honest, just from imagining what he’d do if she’d kissed him—and there is no way she could hope to hide it. Absently, she wonders if he can feel it through her trousers, but when he nudges his fingers down even lower and begins to mock thrust against where she would let him in with varying pressures, she has no doubt he’s well aware.

“Want more? I can give you a hand, y’know.” For emphasis, he sketches a firm line up the front of her slacks before working into a smooth circle. His voice is husky and low, his accent hot and thick along her neck with accompanied kisses amongst golden teeth. “S’up to you. I don’t mind either way. But I’d like to know, right, ‘cause you’re just…”

Jamison kisses along her shoulder, taking advantage of her wide V-neck to softly bite at her trapezius muscles and draw tender patterns with his tongue in between. His fingers continue to stroke against her, and she can feel his hips offer an involuntary thrust as she presses back against his cock. The metal of his prosthetic arm squeezes at her side, sliding up to cup at her breast through her blouse, and she lets herself sink back against him as he continues to tease with the pads of his fingers.

“I’m what,” she prompts, lifting her metal hand to caress the side of his face.

“Crash hot,” he breathes. “You’re a bloody bombshell.”

Satya feels him shift to kiss at the palm of her prosthesis. “I am going to assume that is a compliment,” she says.

“It is. Promise. Best bombshell I’ve ever seen. Reckon you go off real nice.” His fingers sidle up toward the top button of her slacks, his thumb coaxing the fabric over it with a brimming need. “So, d’you want more? Or you wanna step back?”

Gently, Satya guides her right hand over top of his left. She traces the peaks and valleys of his knuckles before helping undo the button, tugging down the zipper, and then flattening his palm down the damp front of her black silk panties.

“More,” she says, and the spike of desire his closeness brings her is far too addicting.

Jamison masks a throaty moan by biting at her shoulder. As his teeth knead into her skin, he dips two fingers along wet fabric and begins to massage into her, pathing soft circles over her clit before sliding down and teasing as if he meant to fully thrust inside. Her undergarments restrict too much movement, much to her displeasure, and so it is only the tips of his fingers nudging in and out and in again before withdrawing completely and gliding upward once more. She sighs at the loss, as the aching heat in her wants nothing more than for him to pull aside the silk and plunge in so she can be filled, but the slow, burning attention he’s lavishing upon her clit is nothing to complain about.

“That all right?” He kisses up her neck and grazes his teeth along the shell of her ear. His metal hand squeezes at her inner thigh, warm with addicting body heat, and the welcoming pressure of his cock is flush against her backside, a constant reminder that he is just as turned on as she is. “Or you want a little more?”

Slowly, she feels his fingers migrate back downward and begin to thrust against her panties right where she’s wettest. A shuddering breath works its way out of her mouth as she feels herself clench down around nothing. She’s hot and wanting and _needing_ him to stop with the teasing already because she has been soaked for the past several days just thinking about his kisses, his shoulders, the wildness in his eyes; she’s thought about how his hands have framed her hips as she kissed him against the barracks wall, how incredibly good he’d looked when she traced her hands down the sculpted muscle of his belly, and how erotic the subsequent shudder was that he’d made when she had tugged at the waistband of his shorts not two days ago; she’s thought about how tempting the prominent outline of his cock was through grungy green camouflage, how she’d wanted to tease him by palming it, how she’d resisted ( _damn_ her), and how she’s somehow kept to herself since that incident.

Everything has been building for the past week, mounting into something she cannot stand, and with Jamison _teasing_ her by thrusting through her slim underwear, the tension twisting inside of her is almost too much to bear.

“Did you not hear me,” she says, not quite a question and not quite a statement, but with enough power through her inflection to imply the latter.

“I’m a touch deaf in me right ear,” he replies, slowing the motion of his fingers to an agonizing pace. “Come again?”

Satya poises her prosthetic hand over the back of his palm and pushes. “I said _more_.”

“Now, there you go,” he says with a pleased laugh. “ _That’s_ more like it.”

Jamison hums a groan into her neck and begins to bunch the fabric of her panties to the side. The open air is cool across her, starting a prickle at her backbone, but his body heat compensates for the chill of the workshop. He swirls his index finger over her clit, coating it sufficiently before sliding down her wetness and parting her open.

“I can give you more,” he says, sketching just at the edges, sparking trembling fires beneath her skin. “Ah, but the question is: how much? Could do just one here, right. Something easy. Nice and slow.”

He demonstrates, nudging in just the pad of his finger. The gradual rhythm he had employed just before returns, sliding in not even to the first knuckle before retreating out and sliding in again. Satya’s toes curl in her heeled shoes, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, and enjoying the feeling of his bare skin against her.

“Could also do two,” he says. “Maybe a bit faster. Maybe with something else for some fireworks.”

As his thumb slides over her clit and begins to rub, he adds another finger to the first, pressing in just barely. The two work in and out with a slightly hastened pace, teasing and stretching and dipping in with an unspoken promise on their prints. With delightful electricity jolting through her nerves under the pressure of his thumb, a soft moan draws out of her and she rocks upward in attempt to coax him deeper—she wants it, needs it, _desperately_.

“Or maybe if you’re keen on something a little more, y’know, _sizable_ ,” he says, offering a soft bite at her shoulder, “could always give three a go. See how that feels. Real nice, I’d imagine.”

A third pushes in with the other two, working her open with their girth. She squeezes down against them all and lifts her hips up once more, hoping he will concede at last and thrust in—he needs to, he needs to, _please_ —but he doesn’t. Satya’s breath is quick and shallow through her lungs, the warmth of her arousal sticking sweat down her back and slicking wet heat between his fingers, and she moans when his thumb performs a particularly pleasurable swirl before slowing to an unfortunate stop.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” he asks. “You’re the one calling the shots. I’m just here for the experience.”

Jamison draws his fingers away completely— _no, please, not yet_ —and drags them along his tongue. She glances back over her should to afford him a disapproving scowl, and he smirks at her with glinting mischief as he sucks on each one.

“And the taste,” he adds, waving them her with a playful wiggle.

Satya tries her best to ignore the ache between her legs. “You are enjoying this.”

“Hey, how’d you know?” His metal hand upon her hip, he gives a grind or two of his cock against her ass, making sure she can feel every inch straining through his shorts. “Reckon it’s sorta obvious, innit?”

“Very,” she breathes. A part of her wishes to get up, unbuckle his belt, and tug down those patchy camos so she can show him _exactly_ how it feels to be teased like this, but she convinces herself to stay put. His fingers felt so fucking good; if he’d just hurry up and fuck her with them like he’d clearly meant to, she might not have to resort to using such tactics.

“Just proves you’re a bombshell,” he says. Slowly, his left hand starts to make its way down between her legs once again. He slips under her panties, smoothing over trimmed hairs and cupping her flush against his palm. “I’d love to see how good you go off. How you feel, how much noise. If you’re a little loud, I don’t mind none.”

His fingers part her, index and middle coaxing her open before nudging inside. With his thumb reassuming its place over her clit, he begins to sink in with agonizing slowness.

“More?” he asks against her ear.

“More,” she replies, breathless and wanting.

“How much, then?” The circling over her clit continues, gradual and with increasing pressure, his two fingers now pressed in to the very first knuckle. “Little faster? Deeper? Or you want another?”

“Everything.” Satya exhales and rocks her hips and clenches around him with unfettered _want_. “Gods, give me everything.”

“You sure? Don’t wanna do something you ain’t keen on.”

“What did I just say,” she breathes.

“Oi, right ear,” he says, and she can feel the smile as he kisses at her neck. “I wanna touch you real bad. _Real bad_. You have no idea. I’m just—I wanna do a hell of a lot to you, but I just… wanna be sure.”

“Everything,” she repeats. “Please.”

“Everything. Everything, she says.” There is a pleased timbre lacing his husky voice, and it makes her back arch in anticipation. “Well, I think that can be arranged.”

The third finger is added before accommodating the rest of her request. With the two already up to the first knuckle, he edges in the final one, stretching her open with a slow, careful pace, and then slides it in to mirror the others. Satya shudders and clenches down, sighing as his thumb begins to circle around her clit with pleasurable intensity, and then the three of his fingers start to sink deeper.

“Jamison,” she says, nails digging into his thigh, “please, more.”

“Getting there,” he replies, and kisses at her temple as if to further placate her. “Promise, I ain’t gonna leave you hanging. You’ll get your everything. Just a little bit longer.”

Sometimes she forgets how long his fingers are, or how thick they are compared to hers, or how both traits would implicate exactly how deep and wide he could fill her with just fingers alone. Pushing the three of them in until the second knuckle, and then somewhere past while his thumb continues its pressing work, she sucks in a shaky breath and bucks her hips against them. A distant part of her mind begins to wonder whether his cock might prove to be a sufficient substitute in the future, as something so thick and hot inside of her with her legs lifted over his shoulders and him filling her full with each stroke would be incredible, but she tries to usher it away and focus on the sensation of his fingers’ slow, slow withdrawal.

“You feel so bloody good,” he murmurs, low and hoarse and needy. “You ready for the last part?”

“I am,” she says, perhaps too hastily. “You had better be ready, too. If you do not finish this, I don’t even know what I am going to do to you.”

“Oh, no worries there. I’m more than ready. Can’t even remember how long I been wanting to do this. It’s gonna be way more than just _finish_.”

With a gravelly moan upon her shoulder, Jamison shoves all three fingers back in with a single stroke. Satya squeezes around him, pleasure knitting throughout webs of aching heat, and when his thumb picks up a quickened rhythm, he begins to pump in and out of her at a much sharper pace. The subtle smoulder that had been present before bursts into an uncontrollable need threaded with sparks and wildfire, and Satya grips at his thighs beneath her as he slicks in and out, filling her full with each thrust, wetness coating his fingers. Her legs start to clinch together as the coiling pleasure starts to mount inside of her, but he pries her right thigh apart with his metal hand and nips at her earlobe with his teeth.

Satya thinks he whispers something to her, perhaps in admonishment, but she can’t hear it. The edge is so close, pushing nearer with every thick thrust, and the delicious movements of his thumb feel as if he’s stoking coals when he rubs the pad of it against her. Everything feels too good, too incredible; he can reach so much deeper than her, so much better, and with real girth to fill her full, and she wishes she could keep a copy of him around the next time she feels this frustrated. A soft noise wells out of her throat as he rocks against her, _with_ her, his fingers plunging into her in time with his thumb, and as the searing pleasure within begins to reach its shivering peak, she clenches around him and her voice strings out into a long moan.

“Jamison,” she breathes, his fingers pushing in, fire punishing through his every touch, “gods, Jamison, _please_ —”

“M’here,” he says, and buries himself deep.

The circling of his thumb does not stop, and continues to shove her over the edge and through the shuddering wreathes of release. Her eyes are shut, the memory of his grin etched beneath her lids and the thought of him bent over with his cock thrust inside of her too real for comfort. Blots of white blinking with her pounding heartbeat consume her with the last drops of pleasure, drawn out by the slowed movements of his thumb.

Dazed, Satya draws a deep breath. His fingers are still inside of her, present yet stilled, and a shiver clambers up her backbone when he presses a _come-hither_ movement up against her. As good as it feels, the aftermath of her orgasm is too much, and so she pats twice at his thigh with her prosthesis in attempt to tell him what her lacking words cannot: _too sensitive._

Jamison seems to take the hint. He withdraws his hand with care before cradling his metal arm across her waist and leaning back into the workshop chair. She watches as he lifts his fingers past her shoulder and begins to lick them clean. The sound is less than desirable, but the fact that he seems to like the way she tastes makes up for it entirely.

“So, how’s that for more?” He is pleased with himself, there is no doubt; it is clear from the lilting tone in his voice. His erection is still thick and prominent against her backside, and she has half a mind to turn around and stroke him to completion, but shivers still wring her limbs to jelly. “Weren’t too bad, I thought.”

Satya’s unfiltered response is to tell him exactly how incredible it was, complete with varied exclamations in Telugu, but the censor in her brain kicks in and she says, “You did not lie when you said it would be more than just finish.”

“Told you,” he says.

She shifts in his lap, trousers still undone, and turns herself to him as she sidles her legs between his own. The grin on his face is soon transmuted into something hot and lusting with mouth half open and brow pinched as she cups his cock with her right hand. Her arm still quivers, but this will be worth it.

“Now, you get to tell me something.” Satya squeezes him through the fabric, her thumb tracing the outline through his shorts, and she finds herself smirking as he starts to bite at his lower lip.

“Yeah?” Jamison shudders under her touch. “What do you wanna know?”

She gives him one final squeeze.

“Do you want more?”


End file.
